The Imposter
by Raimi38
Summary: Chronicles the life of a man from boyhood to adulthood who is haunted by shape shifting figure. Is this being tormenting him? And when people start to die, even the ones he loves the most, are it's acts malicious or that of a guardian angel?


THE IMPOSTER

It sits and watches me every night at the end of my bed. Sometimes it perches itself on top of the bedpost like a gargoyle. Is there a reason for that? Maybe our abnormal concepts are its normal concepts. I try to think like this to make it somewhat less frightening and plausible. Most of the time, it doesn't work.

The first time I saw it, the date was the 29 of April 1989, I was nine years old, I didn't know what it was at the time and it feels like a dream now. About once or twice a year, National Lampoon's Vacation starring Chevy Chase would air on TV and I would find myself watching it with my father every time. It became sort of an annual event for us. Mother hated the movie, so she would retreat to the den to read. There's a scene where Chevy's character goes skinny dipping with a hot blonde and she undresses in front of him. Although we never see her naked my father always told me from the comfort of his armchair to cover my eyes. "Rude bit, mate". That would usually be the cue, but not this time. Lying on the floor opposite him as I always did, hoping I was finally going to get to see Christina Brinkley (the hot blonde) remove her bra, I turned to see my father staring right through me. His eyes were blank and menacing. A touch of black diluted them as they widened and he began to nod his head slowly. For a split second I thought I finally had the approval to see something rude on TV, but this idea faded as a long cheesy grin formed on his face. I could hear muscles tear as his smile grew wider. His gold plated fillings seemed to sparkle through the saliva that dripped from his teeth. My first instinct was to cry out to mother, but my body was so paralysed with fear I couldn't even get words to come out. By the time Chevy Chase was naked in the pool my father's face was back to normal, watching the movie like nothing had happened. I wish I could remember the transition but I can't. That night he went to bed as usual and the next morning my mother awoke next to my father's corpse. He had passed in his sleep aged forty three.

Just over a year later I had 6 months of primary school left. My father's death lingered over me like a dark cloud as I was known as that kid with no father, a strange concept to anyone that young. During that time I had seen what I now referred to as the 'Imposter' over ten times, mostly in different forms. A numb feeling would take hold of my body when it was near taking different normal but abnormal shapes, an old man standing in the driveway, a deformed baby sleeping next to me in bed, a talking cat and most notably being present when someone I know has died.

It was May 9, 1990 when I ran into my own personal school bully for the last time. Jason Read used me as his emotional outlet, at the time whether I thought it was because I was small and skinny making for an easy target for aggression, or because his little sister had been missing for months and this was his way of dealing with it, I'd probably never know the real reason. Having been held back two years didn't help his situation either I'd imagine. He used to slam me up against a classroom wall just out of sight from everyone leaving school for the day. His fists were clenched tightly around my collar and I remember thinking how upset mother would be that I'd ruined my shirt. 'You're a little turd, you know that. Little piss ant!' He would just spout random insults and nothing more. I was too scared to ask for a motive and my responses were normally nonsensical but for some reason I would pay close attention to his features. He always had floppy hair that he flipped back when it went into his eyes. 'You don't live far from me' was the last thing I remember saying as if it were some kind of excuse for him not to hurt me. 'I've got stuff in my dad's shed that will hurt you!' They were Jason Read's last words to me before his mutilated body was found the next day.

They say it was a random dog that tore him to shreds, one that he possibly provoked considering his reputation. Anyone that owned a dog in town was cleared and any animal larger than a fox that didn't reside in our small country town called WillowBark was deemed responsible for the attack.

However there was an anonymous call to local police that Jason Read did not die quickly nor quietly. It was documented that all his vital organs were gone and his throat was ripped out. Not to mention the multiple deep scratch wounds inflicted all over his body. It was a violent death. A little too personal. On the day of his death I was followed home from school by a German Shepard dog. It kept its distance but travelled close enough for me to have no doubt in my mind that it was caked in blood and held a human heart in its mouth. That numb feeling in my body also told me that my Imposter made that call to the police, maybe to show off, who knows really. In a weird way I get the sense it did it to justify Jason's death so that there's a reasonable explanation for it. A little part of me felt like justice was done. Every few months or so I see that dog at the end of my bed. Those are the nights that I sleep the best.

Over time the Imposter became a normal part of my life. But that didn't make me any less afraid of it. For a while it had never harmed nor hurt me. Not until the night of September 19, 1999.

Around 3am I woke to a sharp hot pain slicing into my legs. Lying on my back I looked up to see the

Imposter in the shape of my father with demon arms clawing away the skin on my thighs and shins. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't move. He made no noise but his mouth was open wide, almost like he was in a mid-yawn. I could see my father's gold filling's gleaming under his curled lips when he suddenly stopped and just stared at me. My father wanted my attention and got one hundred percent of it. His right arm raised up and pointed his demon finger towards the doorway. He then leapt backwards as if pulled by strings, pointing continually in a repeated motion. My father's glare stayed fixated on me, but for the first time since his presence, there was emotion in its eyes.

Desperation. He wanted me to see something. No, he wanted to show me something. Although my legs were gaping and bloodied, the pain suddenly disappeared. I stood up almost immediately moving towards the doorway for the first time not being afraid of him. The Imposter who still appeared as my father was now standing at the edge of the stairs looking down at the first floor breathing heavily with what looked like fear and helplessness. A magnetic pull drew me to the top of the stairs where I saw my mother's limp body lying at the bottom, her legs twisted over one another. My father's figure was standing over her now, tears streaming from his eyes as his face pleaded for help.

I immediately raced down the stairs searching for any life left in my mother's body. A faint moan escaped from her mouth signalling hope. The paramedics later told me that had I not found her when I did she wouldn't have survived the night. My mother sustained multiple fractures which caused severe bruising all over her thighs and calves, the fall paralysed her from the waist down. After the ambulance arrived that night my legs were clear of any scratches or injury. I never had to explain it to anyone. Although wheelchair bound, my mother is still alive and it was then I realised the Imposter's purpose.

Whether my father knew it or not, the Imposter made sure I knew something was going to happen to him the night he died. The smile was for me. As unnatural as it seemed in human terms, it was a goodbye of sorts. And I understand that now. Not long after my mother's accident, Jason Read's little sister, Abigale was found buried under their dad's shed. It was later reported that Jason and his dad were connected to the rape and murder of Abigale Read. It was documented in a diary that Jason kept which quoted 'killing her felt good. I already knew who was going to join her'. His dad had committed suicide in jail. However there were reports of him screaming for his life right before he was found dead. These have been confined to rumours and campfire stories at best.

I have never spoken a word to anyone about the Imposter. Not even my mother. Who would believe me? Do I even believe it myself? Am I crazy? Just because I understand now, it doesn't mean I don't fear it. It watches over me every night, ready to show me what's next. I know that now. Is it a demon, a ghost, a mythical creature worthy of folklore? We fear what we don't understand. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't fear what we're supposed to understand.

3


End file.
